


The Gift

by Servena



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Blood and Injury, Combat Medics, Fear of Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, POV Outsider, Stitches, special gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servena/pseuds/Servena
Summary: Eugene Roe has a gift, everybody in Easy Company straight up to Battalion Headquarters knows it. The only one who doesn’t want to hear anything about it is Eugene himself.





	The Gift

Eugene Roe has a gift, everybody in Easy Company straight up to Battalion Headquarters knows it. He has a way of handling wounded soldiers that surpasses anything they’ve ever seen. Hysterical men calm right down underneath his calm and steady hands, and even the ones that can’t be saved look peaceful in their last moments. The fact that Eugene’s grandma had apparently been a faith healer before her death has only increased the air of mysticism that surrounds him. Everybody in the company would swear up and down that they have the best medic in the 506th, maybe in the whole Army.

The only one who doesn’t want to hear anything about it is Eugene himself.

“I ain’t a _traiteur_ ”, he says one evening as they are eating cold grub and smoking their cigarettes, when one of the new replacements dares to ask him. “I’m just a medic.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Gene”, Babe says before shoving another spoonful of food into his mouth, “you’re one hell of a medic.” The others mumble and nod in agreement, but Eugene just shakes his head and turns his attention back to his cigarette.

 

So when someone yells for a medic at the top of their lungs one pale afternoon two days later, Babe takes his eyes off the line to catch a look at Gene dashing towards it, weaving between the foxholes with one hand on his helmet and the other on the medical bag on his hips. The yells come from somewhere on Babe’s left, but he can’t see anything even as he cranks his head.

The Germans have been quiet all day save for a bit of machine gun fire in the morning, so something else must have happened. Babe squints at the line of trees he’s supposed to watch and then abandons his gun to see if he can help.

The man who’s yelling for help is just a kid, one of the replacements brought in shortly before they left for Bastogne. Babe stares at him, but cannot for the life of him remember his name. There’s bright red blood running over his fingers and the boy is alternately yelling and sobbing, eyes wide with fear.

Eugene is already on his knees in the snow, trying to drag the kid’s hands away from the wound. “Alright, I need to take a look”, he says, but the boy won’t move his hands, clinging to the bloody fabric of his uniform as if his life depended on it, and keeps sobbing “I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die!”

Eugene gives up for the moment and turns to the other soldier in the foxhole. “Talbert, what happened?” There’s an edge to his voice, but Floyd just says “I don’t know, I don’t know, suddenly he was yelling and then there was all this blood!” He sounds borderline hysterical, as if he, too, is close enough to lose it. They’ve been in these woods for more than two weeks already and the bitter cold and the constant shelling has started to take its toll on them.

“Alright, alright”, Gene says. He bites his lips and Babe can see the moment when he comes to a decision. “I want you to inform Sergeant Lipton, tell him that it could’ve been a sniper and that all men should be alert. Stay with him and help him secure the line.”

Talbert scrambles out of the foxhole like all the hounds of hell are after him. As soon as he’s gone Eugene turns his attention back to the situation at hand. Until this moment Babe wasn’t even sure if Gene had noticed him, but then he says, without even looking up: “Babe, gimme a hand here.”

“What do I do?” Babe asks, already slipping out of his gloves with some regret as he feels the cold instantly bite at his fingers.

Eugene has started digging through his medical bag. “Hold him down, I need to check out his wound.”

“You got it.” Babe kneels down next to Gene and the snow immediately starts to soak through his ODs. “Sorry”, he tells the boy, then he puts his hands firmly on his chest.

“Alright, Evans, look at me.” Babe watches as Gene takes the boy’s face between his hands and waits until he is sure that the other’s gaze is fixed on him. “I need to look at your wound now, okay? And for that I need you to take your hands away.”

“I don’t wanna die”, the boy whimpers. He looks so young that Babe is surprised he even made it into the Army, though he wouldn’t be the first to lie about his age on the application papers.

“You ain’t dying”, Gene says roughly. Still, there’s a gentleness to him, and the boy’s sobs start to ease up. “I’ve got you, alright? I’m gonna take care of you. Alright?”

“Okay”, the boy whispers.

“Now show me.” This time he manages to pry the kid’s hands away. He motions at Babe and he takes hold of the wrists so the kid can’t interfere anymore.

He watches as Gene digs out the scissors he got from Perconte and cuts open the uniform right over the left thigh. He wipes the blood away with his bare hands and then leans over to take a closer look at the wound. Babe can hear him breathe out slowly. “That ain’t bad.”

“It ain’t bad?” the boy asks, his voice shaking.

Eugene sits back up. “No, it ain’t bad. No artery nicked, it’s just superficial. You’re gonna be fine, Evans.”

Babe can feel the boy relax underneath him and he eases up on his grip. “Are you sure?” the boy asks.

Gene nods, and Babe is sure that a man less familiar with his features would not notice, but he can see the relief on his face. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Babe looks on as he rips open a package of sulfa, spreading the white powder generously over the wound. The boy hisses. “It hurts”, he complains.

“I know, but I gotta disinfect it. And you ain’t getting morphine for that, I’m almost out. Gotta at least shoot yourself in the foot next time.”

Babe chuckles at that and even the boy manages a choked laugh.

Gene discards the empty package and digs back into his bag. “Alright, I gotta sew this shut. Just don’t look, alright?”

“I don’t wanna”, the kid whispers.

“Won’t heal properly if I don’t sew it up.” He pulls the thread through the needle with steady hands and then leans back over the head, turning so he gets enough light. “Gonna be over in a second.”

“Oh god”, Evans whimpers. His breath is coming in quick, shallow gasps.

Gene looks up. “Alright, I need you to breathe, okay? Don’t faint on me. Breathe in…and out. In…and out. That’s right, you’re doing just fine. Keep breathing.”

Babe contemplates that fainting might even be a mercy on Evans, but Gene works quickly and after the first few stitches, Evans calms down. This time Babe even dares to watch, and he figures that he’s not that different to observing his Ma’s needlework, if you can forget that it is human flesh that’s being sewn shut and not a rip in a shirt. Gene’s stitches are small and neat, something his Ma would be proud off.

Finally Gene sits up and puts the needle away. “Alright, just gonna wrap it up now. Gotta be nice and tight. Then you’re all set.” This time Evans doesn’t even protest, only gives a grunt of pain as Gene pulls at the bandage to tie it up. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

He cleans up his supplies while Evans dares to sit up carefully and even gets a bit of color back in his face.

“Now”, Gene says as he’s shutting his bag, “that wasn’t a bullet wound. You gonna tell me what happened?”

“I was cleaning my bayonet” Evans mumbles, not daring to look at either of them.

“Jesus Christ”, Babe says.

Gene just sighs. He’s seen too much soldiers do stupid shit to be particularly enraged about it anymore, Babe figures. “Be more careful next time.”

“Do I need to get to an aid station?” Evans asked.

“We ain’t got no aid station. Just keep off it as long as it hurts. And keep your feet dry”, Gene adds as a second thought.

They wait until Talbert gets back so he can keep an eye on the boy. When Eugene turns to leave, Babe follows him. “You were amazing”, he says.

Gene throws him a glance as he lights himself a cigarette. “You weren’t too bad yourself.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He accepts the cigarette when Gene offers, inhaling gratefully before blowing the smoke out into the cold air.

There’s a small smile tugging at the corners of Eugene’s mouth. “Well, at least you didn’t throw up.”

Babe shakes his head and hands the cigarette back. “Oh wow, that’s one hell of a low bar.”

“You’d be surprised.” He stops and gives him a look. “And now go back and watch the goddamn line, Heffron.”

Babe throws his hands up. “Yeah, I’m going, I’m going! - And where are you going?” he calls after him.

Gene turns around and gives him a grin. “I’m gonna find Sergeant Lipton, better tell him he can stop looking for a sniper!”


End file.
